


I Suffer, I Suffocate

by White_Noise



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Bur doesn't need to be if that's not your thing, Can be read as pre-garashir, Character Study, Episode: s05e15 By Inferno's Light, Gen, Genetically Engineered Beings, Introspection, Julian Bashir is not ok, Mentions of Augmented Humans, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mental trauma, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Noise/pseuds/White_Noise
Summary: He may be free from Internment Camp 371 but Julian Bashir has a long way to go before he is back to normal, if only his friends, his family, can finally see that.A post 'By Inferno's Light' fic reflecting on the recovery of one, Doctor Julian Bashir who went through hell and came out the other end.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf, Julian Bashir & DS9 Crew, Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir & Martok, Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, pre-Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 13
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Deep Space Nine fic! I have been binge watching it during Isolation and remembering how much I adore Bashir and how badly he was treated in the later seasons. Seriously, no one checked on him at all. Having seen a lot of good friends go down with PTSD and possibly having a mild case of it myself, this caused issues with me. 
> 
> This is set just after the two part episodes 'In Purgatory's Shadow' and 'By Inferno's Light' and before 'Doctor Bashir, I presume' because if you watch those three episodes in a row, it is a serious mind f*ck for the good doctor so I want to show some of his recovery. Plus, I was not impressed with how the other characters acted towards Bashir, particularly in that last scene of BIL. Miles' comment was way out of line and seeing Bashir's face, he was clearly struggling and did not need that crap. 
> 
> Shout out to my beta Syaunei and all my new and old friends on Discord for joining me in the hype over our favorite doctor. I adore you all and you have no idea how you have all made me feel better about myself recently when stuff got hard :)

_‘Chief Medical Officer’s Log, Stardate 50602.3._

_It has been almost two weeks since my liberation from Internment Camp 371. I, like my fellow prisoners, have begun the slow process of adjusting to normal life._

_It is hard to believe over a month went by while in that place. For many of us, it felt like a lifetime…..’_

“Computer. Delete Log entry.”

_‘Log entry deleted.’_

Sighing, Doctor Julian Bashir pushed his padd across his desk, away from himself and leant back in his chair, his eyes drifting to a fixed point on the wall as his mind drifted. It was already late in his shift, the third double shift he had taken that week.

Julian knew his friends were starting to worry about him. Miles had appeared on the first day back, trying to entice him away from work with games of darts, time on the Holodeck and when that failed, a surprising and gruff apology for not seeing through the Impostor which had not landed well. Julian had not taken the crack about the Changeling kindly and had gruffly told Miles to leave. Jadzia had also been around, not to apologise but to look at Julian with pity and regret. She too had now been banned from the Sickbay unless it was an emergency, not that Julian thought that would stop either of them.

Sisko had been a far more frequent visitor to the Sickbay as well and Julian knew he was more than likely appearing on behalf of Jadzia and Miles, although he didn’t mention their temporary ban of both to Julian during his check ups. The knowledge that it had been the Changeling who had performed brain surgery on his commanding officer left both the Doctor and patient in question nervous and Sisko needed the reassurance that he hadn’t been harmed just as much as Julian did. 

Both Constable Odo and Major Kira had also turned up, in Odo’s case to search the area again to ensure the Changeling spy hadn’t left any unexpected surprises and Kira to assess the development and results of the blood tests. Both of them were less subtle than they believed, Julian catching both of them shooting worried glances at him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. 

All of them had looked guilty when speaking with Julian, the apologies on the tips of their tongues. They had lived a full month thinking the Changeling was their friend, thinking that nothing was wrong while Julian had been in the Gamma Quadrant, fighting to survive. Had he died there as so many others had, they would never have even known. And that would have been a disaster for the Federation, the Changeling had gotten so close to destroying them all.

Julian tried not to let it get to him, tried not to blame them for not seeing the Changeling but part of him couldn’t help but wonder, if he had been less closed off, if he had been more open or less secretive or just…..different, would they have noticed sooner? Could all this had been avoided if Julian Bashir had been less……Julian Bashir? Maybe Miles had been unintentionally right when he said that the Changeling had been easier to get along with.

On his desk, his padd beeped, the reminder he had set flashing across the screen. Without looking, Julian reached over and ran his finger across the screen, deleting the message without reading it. His reminder to see Counsellor Telnorri.

On returning to the Station, Julian, along with the other prisoners, had been immediately rushed to sickbay, to confirm they were not other Changelings and have their wounds treated. After a brief and surprisingly gentle interrogation with Odo, Julian had been instructed by Sisko to take 2 days off work to get himself back in order while Odo and his team went through every place the Changeling had been, trying to ensure no further damage had been done to the station.

Julian had returned to his Quarters, wrecked despite Odo’s teams attempts to be careful with his possessions. Julian had spent two days, trying to relax but finding himself more and more tense. The closed walls of his quarters, despite being familiar and once safe surroundings, seemed too much like the grey cells the Jem’Hadar had locked him into during his several stints in solitary confinement.

Most of those two days, Julian had spent pacing, trying to distract himself by shifting furniture and possessions around or near unconsciousness on his couch or bed and most of the nights were spent prowling the Promenade, trying to avoid the suspicious eyes of others on the station or seated at a back table at Quarks, watching everyone around him.

On the second night, Garak had joined him. Unlike their normal meetings at Quark where they would loudly and often forcefully debate their different tastes in literature, the Cardassian didn’t say anything, no doubt caught up in his own trauma from the Internment Camp. 

Julian remembered being a silent witness to Tain’s death and Garak’s well hidden pain at never getting to truly gain the man’s respect. Julian had a lot of feelings about the deceased Cardassian Powerhouse and not all positive but he couldn’t deny that Tain’s behaviour towards Garak had been unforgivingly cruel, even by Cardassian standards.

Julian had his own personal experience with terrible parents but that didn’t negate Garak’s pain.

Still, Julian was glad that Garak had decided to sit with him. His silent company was a refreshing change from the solitary space of his quarters or the pitying eyes of the other occupants of the station.

After a few hours sitting in silence, Julian had gone back to his Quarters where he had finally slept for a few hours.

The next day, Julian was finally allowed to return to duty, Constable Odo clearing the sickbay of any dangers and confirming Julian’s staff were who they said they were. Sisko had come to see Julian as he had walked through the door to his office on that first day back, to ask that Julian take care of himself and request, although Julian didn’t kid himself by ignoring the underlying order in his Commanding Officers voice, that the Doctor see Counsellor Telnorri in the next two weeks. Julian had agreed, for Sisko’s sake and then got back to work, to try and develop a better blood test and keep the station’s personnel in fighting shape for the War that he could no longer fool himself to deny was coming.

Since then, Julian had thrown himself back into his work. Trying to distract himself. He had taken on more Double shifts, trying to give his staff more of a break to prepare them for what was to come. He had started running more drills and training exercises and when it was quiet, no bar fights or injuries or illnesses, he worked on the blood tests.

To keep Sisko happy, Julian had placed a reminder in his padd to arrange a session with Telnorri. It wasn’t his fault that the reminders tended to come when Julian was busy. Now, he only had 4 more days before the two weeks were up and inevitably, Sisko would come calling.

Still, Julian couldn’t kid himself. As part of his training as a Doctor, Julian had done some classes on mental health. He knew he was not in the right headspace, that a mental injury could be just as bad as a physical one. But he could not get the energy to do something about it. The idea of speaking about it to someone, to relive it, was far beyond what Julian felt he could do right now.

That was why he was thankful for Garak. After that first silent meeting at Quarks, there had been several others.

A few times, during the day shifts, he had seen Garak, the Cardassian seemingly bouncing back to his normal self, speaking with Julian in bright, slightly condescending tones and trying to rib the Doctor into a debate. But those night-time meetings were a different beast. Both of them completely silent, watchful.

It was also the only time Julian could get out of his uniform.

Julian had been taken by the Dominion prior to the new uniform being rolled out, the Changeling wearing it as part of its deception.

Julian remembered his old uniform, the teal shoulders always at the edge of his peripheral vision. The memories of his pride at first wearing the uniform when he officially became a member of the station. The comfort of the familiar jumpsuit, a symbol of his dedication to his job and the Federation.

This new uniform was completely different. Instead of the comforting teal, there was a dull grey, so like the walls of Internment Camp 371. The shoulders too, were heavier, quilted and of a thicker fabric. The uniform moved differently as he performed his duties, the fabric rougher on his skin.

Julian couldn’t help but hate it slightly, this second hand uniform the Changeling had worn, taking it off at the end of his shifts instead of continuing to wear it around the station like he used to. But that left another problem. When he wasn’t working, he wasn’t wearing the uniform which was a relief. But when he wasn’t working, he wasn’t distracted, and the walls started closing in on him again.

He had limited personal clothing, since prior to his imprisonment, he rarely worn anything but his uniform, his racquetball clothes or one or two outfits he had for shore leave, most of his holodeck outfits being replicated and then recycled once the programs were done, but he couldn’t guarantee the Changeling hadn’t worn any or all of them in his absence and that made his skin crawl to think about it. He knew that Changelings tended to make their own clothes appear at will but this one had been a spy and he didn’t know how far it would have gone to perfect its false Bashir look. How much of his property it had touched.

Julian had thrown more than a few of his shirts and pants in the replicator to be recycled. He had also run his new uniforms through the replicator, recycling them before replicating more. It still didn’t make him feel any more comfortable wearing the uniform.

Julian guessed he should probably go to the ship's resident tailor to make him some new clothing soon. Certainly Garak had made more than a few comments over the years about wanting to update Julian’s wardrobe and it would do the Cardassian good to have a project, as long as Julian could make sure he didn’t go too overboard.

Thinking about his clothing made Julian hyper aware of his uniform. Almost unthinkingly, he grabbed at the sleeves, pulling the cuffs down. Tearing his eyes away from the wall, he looked over at the small locker where his surgical scrubs were kept. Julian had learnt through a long and hard apprenticeship to always have at least one spare uniform on hand if an urgent medical situation came up. Julian in his time, had been covered in just about every fluid a body could produce and it paid to have a spare on hand for those times if he didn’t want to become a walking bio-hazard.

Clearly this was one of the few places that the Changeling hadn’t been, as the old uniform was still inside, the familiar teal shoulders present. Julian knew he should probably recycle it like the rest of his colleagues had but he found he couldn’t. Not yet.

There was a faint hiss as the door to the sickbay opened. It was already so late at night that the noise startled Julian out of his thoughts. Most of his staff were off shift, having spent most of the day running drills under his orders.

Looking through the window, Julian was startled to see Keiko O’Brien walking into the sickbay, a bundle in her arms. He had heard from rumour mill that she had decided to return from Bajor for a few days to see her husband, much to his protests. The current uneasy tension from Cardassia and the ever present threat of the Dominion appearing had not stopped travel nearly as much as everyone had thought.

Julian immediately rose from his seat. If Keiko was here, that could mean the Chief was in trouble. Julian may not have truly spoken to his friend since his first day back on the job, after kicking the Chief out of his sickbay for the crack about the Changeling being friendlier than him (He had also had to kick out Worf and Jadzia, the moment the Klingon was fit to be discharged. Worf may have been hopped up on the joys of a glorious victory against the Jem’Hadar but Julian was not interested in his celebrations taking place in the sickbay, Thank you very much.)

Several times before, when Miles had hurt himself but was too stubborn to report to Julian, Keiko would step in. No doubt it had happened again, Miles remembering being kicked out all too clearly.

Rounding his desk, Julian stepped out into the larger space.

“Uncle Julian!” A voice said.

Julian only just managed not to flinch as a figure slammed into his leg with some force, forcing himself not to react violently to a possible danger. Looking down, he found himself gazing into the trusting face of Molly O’Brien, Miles and Keiko’s adorable daughter.

Acting on autopilot, Julian knelt down to give the little girl a hug, as he had done often prior to his imprisonment.

“Hello Molly, Keiko.” He replied, glancing up at the girl’s mother. “Is the Chief alright?” In his head, Julian was already packing his tools in his med kit to take wherever the Chief was.

Keiko, far from looking concerned, gave Julian a small smile.

“Miles is fine.” She replied. “It occurred to me that there is someone you never got to meet.” She shifted the bundle in her arms which gave a small whimper.

Julian felt the blood rush from his face as he realised who she meant. He rose to his feet, trying to find the right words to apologise to Keiko.

He had missed Kirayoshi’s birth, already a prisoner of the Dominion when Major Kira had gone into labour. The thought that the Changeling had delivered his friend's child frightened him but far worse was the realisation that, two weeks after his return he had yet to meet the baby.

He should have visited the family earlier. All of them were under his care and it was so soon after the baby’s birth. By rights, Julian should have been documenting the baby’s growth, performing periodic check ups and immunisations and trying to take the parents minds off the never wrecking worries of parenting a newborn while also handling a young and energetic child. He should have been finding random parenting tips to annoy Miles with and trying to figure out ways to dodge babysitting duties when Miles inevitably came calling for payback. He should have tried to reach out instead of moping by himself, for the baby’s sake.

Keiko seemed to notice Julian’s look of horror. Like she was meeting an easily startled animal, she approached him carefully, pulling at the blankets in her arms to show the babies face to Julian.

“Julian, this is Kirayoshi.” She said gently, still approaching Julian. Julian didn’t protest as Keiko gently passed the baby into his arms. He looked down at the infant.

For over a month, he had been surrounded by blood and death. He hadn’t realised how welcome this example of new life was. Kirayoshi had a rough start, almost killed while still in the womb but Julian had fought for his birth. He may not have gotten to be there when the baby was born but he knew how important he was in this child’s life. 

Julian found himself staring at the little face, only half paying attention as Keiko grabbed his arm, gently steering him away from the middle of the room so he could lean against a bio-bed. Molly followed, quickly scrambling up onto the bed to sit at Julian’s side.

The young girl was babbling as she pressed herself against Julian’s shoulder, a string of instructions with all the authority of a big sister, telling Julian how Yoshi was always crying or would spit up and wasn’t big enough to play but that was ok, he would grow.

Julian couldn’t help but smile down at the little human in his arms. Although he knew the science behind the production of humans, it was still amazing to see the result, to hold this little being in his arms.

Julian didn’t realise he was rambling, muttering the stages of development from birth to the age of 2 until he felt Keiko’s arm on his shoulder. For once, the unpleasant feel of the grey fabric was not stifling as he looked over at the woman, the new mother who trusted him with her child.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Keiko, there you are. Oh, Hey Julian.” A voice said. Julian looked up, involuntarily tightening his grip on the baby. He caught himself before he could do any harm to the child.  
Without his notice, Miles had entered the sickbay and was walking towards his wife, children and friend.

“Daddy!” Molly cried, pushing herself away from Julian and jumping off the bio-bed, running towards the Chief who swept her up into his arms.

“Hey Sweetheart.” Miles said, cuddling his daughter against his chest as he crossed the sickbay to meet Keiko and Julian.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking between Julian and his wife. “You said you were only going to be in the sickbay for 20 minutes. It’s been two hours.”

Julian started. He hadn’t been aware that so much time had passed. Quickly, he glanced over at the nearest computer terminal and confirmed, he had been holding the baby for almost 2 hours.

For two hours, he had been completely focused on the baby. Nothing else had passed through his head

“Fine.” Keiko replied, her arm still on Julian’s shoulder. “Julian and I were just arranging another check-up for Yoshi.”

“Ah!” Miles said, nodding. “Well what do you think Julian? I have tomorrow afternoon off and can bring him in for a check-up then. That is, if I am not still banned from Sickbay?”

Julian finally found his voice again after the surprise of the Chief’s entrance.

“Oh. Of course. I will see you both tomorrow then.”

He tried to ignore the Chiefs look of triumph, the man clearly believing he had forced Julian’s hand to get himself welcome back. No doubt Yoshi’s check-up would be full of pointed jabs from the Chief.

Turning, Julian passed baby Yoshi back to his mother, Keiko taking him gently from the Doctor’s arms.

Trying to regain his composure, Julian turned and grabbed a tricorder, fiddling with it in an attempt to look busy. Keiko walked over to Miles, the man glancing down at his son with clear love on his face.

“Was he good?” Julian heard Miles ask Keiko as he shifted Molly in his grip. The little girl was quiet, leaning her head against her father's shoulder. With a start, Julian realised it was past her bedtime. Which meant Keiko had deliberately kept her up. She must have realised Julian had been in his own world and wasn’t willing to disturb him.

“Yes.” Keiko replied. “He didn’t cry once.”

“He didn’t cry?” Miles asked, sounding shocked. Julian saw Miles look over at him with an odd, almost awed expression.

“Well.” The Chief said gruffly “I guess we know who to get to babysit for us. What do you say Julian? Wanna become our night nurse?” Julian recognised the teasing tone behind Miles' words.

Julian couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s words.

“Unfortunately, unlike some, I need my beauty sleep.” He replied. It felt like a lifetime since he had bantered with Miles. Julian was surprised how he so easily slipped back into the role.

“Make sure you do.” Miles replied. “I don’t care about your beauty, but you better be in top shape to check on my son tomorrow.”

“Of course I will, Chief.” Julian replied. “Anything for Yoshi.”

Miles smiled and Julian realised that, to be able to be fresh and rested for Yoshi’s appointment the next day, and more importantly, to be on his guard around the Chief, he would need to try and sleep through the night tonight. Mentally, Julian made a note to take a sedative before he slept. It would be the only way he could guarantee more than two hours of sleep.

“Well, it’s time for someone to go to bed.” Miles announced. Julian knew the comment was aimed as a tease at Molly who immediately tried to protest but Miles eyes were fixed on Julian. Meekly, the Doctor nodded. His shift was ending soon anyway, and Julian could guess that Miles was aware of his night-time walks through the station.

“We will leave you to finish your shift.” Keiko said. “Good night Julian.” She turned, placing a hand on Miles' arm to steer him out of the sickbay.

“Darts tomorrow after the appointment.” Miles demanded as he turned away. “And no, that isn’t a question.”

The couple turned and holding their children, left Julian alone with his thoughts.

Sighing again, Julian placed the tricorder back on the desk. He suddenly felt exhausted. He guessed he would be sleeping tonight.

\------

The next morning came. Julian had managed a solid 4 and a half hours before the nightmares had woken him in a cold sweat and left him shaken. Still better than the average of 2 hours he had been managing before.

He had gone for his customary walk around the station, early in the morning instead of his normal night time stroll, before pulling on his uniform and making his way to the sickbay. It was one of the few days he wasn’t on a double shift.

Julian suspected one of his nurses had swapped out his shift as he knew he had put himself down for a double when he had approved the roster but at the same time, he was not interested in fighting his staff. That would bring too much attention to him that he didn’t need, not when he technically only had 3 days left before Sisko’s order was up.

As he walked towards the sickbay from his quarters, Julian promised himself that he would make an appointment with Telnorri.

He had made that promise to himself before. It would be shown at the end of the day, if he managed to keep it this time.

Walking into the Sickbay, Julian almost crashed into the heavily armoured back of a Klingon.

Quickly, Julian backed away, putting some distance between himself and the Klingon. More often than not, a Klingon in the Sickbay was either drunk or injured or a dangerous mixture of both, neither state leading them to being particularly forgiving to someone crashing into them.

On more than one occasion, Julian had been forced to wrestle with an irate warrior, trying to hold them still while his staff rushed to call security. It was one of the few times his enhanced strength and speed came in handy and thankfully, the Klingons were always going to blame their intoxication or injuries rather than admit they were bested by someone they believed to be a base level human.

Given Sisko’s newly made treaty with the Klingons and the now permanent military presence on the station, Julian could foresee an increase in the number of Klingons passing through his doors until the actual fighting starts.

The Klingon in question turned, familiar growl on his lips and Julian braced himself to dodge any swing which might be coming his way. A single dark eye scanned him before the Klingon dropped his fighting stance.

“Ah! Doctor Bashir! Just the man I was waiting for.” General Martok said in a cheerful voice.

Julian allowed himself to relax, recognising one of his allies from the Internment Camp.

The General had protected Julian in those early days of his imprisonment, making sure the only human in the camp did not fall under the Jem’Hadar’s eyes.

The Jem’Hadar of the Gamma Quadrant had little experience with humans up close and Julian had found himself with a large target on his back. Thankfully, the General had seen his value as a healer. After losing so many of his friends in the Jem’Hadar’s battle pits and the failing health of Tain, using his own life support to try and get a signal to the Alpha Quadrant, the General had been in desperate need of a Doctor and had promised that, as long as Julian did his best to help them, he would personally protect the human.

Julian had taken the offer, knowing he had very little change of survival otherwise and had worked hard to keep his fellow prisoners in the best health he could manage.

His relationship with Martok had grown in those dark days, the General taking a liking to the Doctor. Julian was never one to back down and cower to anyone. It was a trait that had earned him his first and most of his subsequent stints in solitary confinement.

That particular trait seemed to draw the admiration of the Klingons who, despite being focused on achieving a noble death, valued living over a pointless one at the hands of the Jem’Hadar. The Klingons in the camp had liked Julian not just because he didn’t cower for their captors as many thought he would, but because he would put himself at risk to protect and help his fellow prisoners.

A few times, when some of the Klingons' injuries had been major, the Jam’Hadar had simply ordered their executions rather than bother with them further. Every time, Julian had stepped forward to try and stop it, earning himself a beating or solitary. But twice, the Jam’Hadar had relented.

No doubt they thought it amusing that a human doctor thought he could save a critically injured warrior. But those odds hadn’t stopped Julian from trying his best to save the injured Klingons in his care.

He had helped bury more than one person he had fought to save in that camp. And General Martok had been at his side, trying his best, in his odd Klingon way, to comfort Julian with knowledge that his assistance allowed the deceased to achieve a better death.

“Good morning General.” Julian said, nodding stepping forward and around the General to enter his sickbay. He could see in the Generals one eye, the Klingon’s mind was on a similar thought to his, both of them thinking back to that camp. “How may I help you today?”

“It is not you who can help today, my friend, But rather, I, you.” The Klingon said, following behind Julian as he made his way to his office. “I come bearing a gift.”

The Klingon reached into his belt and drew out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. The Warrior placed the cloth on Julian’s desk.

Julian eyed it for a moment. He knew from experience that Klingon gifts were very different from anything he was likely to receive from others on the station. For one, there was an increased risk that the gift would be alive.

Gingerly, the Doctor reached for the edge of the cloth and flicked it up. Internally, he gave a sigh of relief at the flash of metal which greeted him.

Beside him, Martok gave a loud laugh.

“Your face, Doctor!” The Klingon said, slapping Julian on the back hard.

Julian ignored the General’s teasing tone, looking down at the D’k tahg. Even from a distance, he could see the blade was well made and he knew from prior conversations with both Worf and Jadzia that to receive such a blade was a huge mark of respect in Klingon culture, especially as a non Klingon. 

And yet, it felt too much like a slap. A reminder that he had been forced to kill the Jem’Harad soldier with a makeshift blade back in the Internment Camp to protect his fellow prisoners and to protect their escape plan from discovery.

Julian was a healer and that memory did not sit well with him. He looked over at the General.

“I thank you.” Julian said, trying to keep his tone light. “But I cannot accept it.”

Martok looked at him, the General’s one good eye staring straight at Julian. Then the Klingon gave a loud laugh.

This time, Julian was unable to hide the flinch.

The laugh stopped abruptly, the General again eyeing Julian. A look passed behind that eye, one which Julian was unable to interpret.

“Of course.” The Klingon said gruffly. “I should have realised.”

He stepped back, reaching into one of the pouches at his belt.

“I did, however, bring something else.”

He held up a small cylinder.

“The first draft of my epic poem of our glorious escape from the Jem’Hadar. I heard both you and Mr Garak are men of literature. I would appreciate both your feedback on it.”

He pressed the cylinder into Julian’s palm. Julian looked down as the Klingon’s hand withdrew, at the gift.

During Julian’s month in captivity, while planning their escape, Martok had mentioned many times his desire to write a poem once they were home. In the darker times, Martok’s discussions about the poem and what it would entail had been the only thing keeping Julian from despair. 

His belief that they would escape keeping his fellow prisoners going long beyond reason. Even as they buried their companions, as they witnessed the deaths of their allies, Martok had continued to talk about this poem.

And now it had come to pass.

Here in Julian’s hand, was the proof both that it had happened and that they had survived.

Julian didn’t realise there were tears into his eyes until he was forced to blink furiously, trying to force them back. He felt his hand grip the poem, as if needing proof that it was real.

Beside him Martok, nodded, the Klingon not wanting to draw attention to the Doctor’s emotional state.

“I will leave you now. I trust you have work to complete but if you would read it, I would value your opinion. And that of Mr Garak. Good day, doctor.”

Silently, the Klingon left the office, striding through the sickbay and out into the wider world of the station.

Slowly, Julian sank down onto his chair, the poem still clutched in his hand. He reached up, resting his hot forehead against his free hand, leaning his elbow on the desk for support. The D’k tahg left behind, forgotten.

\------

The day had ended. Julian had recovered from his emotional moment in time to complete his shift and Miles, as promised, had brought Yoshi in for a check up. Afterwards, he had dragged Julian back to his quarters to hand the baby over to Keiko before the two of them headed to Quark’s. Julian had tried to give his excuse to leave but Miles had ignored him and Julian had found it easier to simply give in and play a game of darts than argue with the Chief in public.

He had tried to be extra careful while playing, aiming for one bullseye in every twelve to match Miles score. After the first game, he had made his excuse to leave. Unfortunately, Worf and Jadzia took that moment to arrive and drag Julian back for a second game.

Worf had even made a comment about the D’k tahg, Martok having informed him that he was giving the weapon to Julian.

Julian was better prepared this time and simply gritted his teeth as Worf and Jadzia explained the honour of being gifted such a blade. The blade in question had been placed in Julian’s locker in the sickbay until he figured out what to do about it.

Julian suspected Jadzia, at least, could guess he was uncomfortable with the gift.

His three friends had talked excitedly for a while as the second game progressed.

Julian didn’t add much to the conversation, choosing to simply watch as Jadzia wiped the floor with everyone.

He also didn’t drink like normal, something he was sure his friends noticed but didn’t comment on. Drinking had lost a lot of its charm. Sure it was fun to be drunk but Julian had noticed long ago that when he drank, he was less in control of his thoughts and actions and he did not need that at this time. 

At one point, Quark tried to approach him, a padd in hand that Julian recognised as a bill slip but Jadzia had intercepted the Ferengi before he could get too close. As she was shooing him off, Julian had heard her muttering that Quark could not get Julian to pay for the tab the Changeling had built up in its time on the station. Quark had gone to protest but a growl from Worf had stopped him.

The whole thing was so well organised that, had Julian not had enhanced hearing, he would never have noticed it took place.

For a moment, Julian was grateful that his friends were so protective of him. . But only for a moment before he remembered that they had unwittingly welcomed an imposter into their midst for over a month.

After that, the wave of resentment was followed by the familiar wave of shame at letting himself blame his friends for something which was not their fault. They couldn’t have known about the Changeling. Maybe if the blood tests had been better or there had been a better way of screening new arrivals to the Station. Maybe if Julian hadn’t been so complacent when he had gotten onto that shuttle to head towards the conference. 

Julian should have known that transit was the most vulnerable part of any journey. During a time of heightened hostility, even more so. Anything could happen. And in this case, it had. He had been captured right under the noses of some of Starfleet’s best and brightest. Dragged off to the Gamma Quadrant and imprisoned, all because he let his guard down.

No. Those were dark thoughts. 

Shaking himself from his musing, Julian looked over at the trio. Jadzia and Miles were discussing something about a Runabout. Julian had no idea what it all meant but they seemed to be enjoying themselves if the almost violent hand waving and raised voices were any indication. Worf had stepped back and was talking with a Klingon, one of the Generals men.

Sighing, Julian stepped away from the group, moving unnoticed across the Promenade towards the turbolifts. Heading back to the silent grey walls of his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second and final chapter. This is dedicated to my friends on the Deep Space Discord. You are all wonderful. And yes, I will get around to writing something for the Deep Space Discord Universe at some point. I promise. 
> 
> A huge thanks again to my wonderful Beta Syaunei. I am honored that the master of Garashir assisted me with my measley little fic.

That night, Julian found himself walking on the Promenade, sleep again escaping him.

He had tried, once he got back to his quarters, deactivating his comm to stop any of his friends contacting him and throwing off his uniform but it was not happening.

The station was quiet, most of the occupants long since returned to their quarters to rest. Only the occasional cries of joy and despair from the Dabo tables at Quark’s breaking the silence.

It was a far cry from Internment Camp 371, the large open and clean spaces so different from the cramped and dirty cells. The stink of filth and blood a long way from the sanitised smells, occasionally mixed with the smells of food from the various shops.

Strolling along the walkway, Julian found himself heading towards a familiar shop front, one he had visited so many times during his posting on the Station. 

Unlike most night times, the lights were on, someone inside the store. 

Julian made his way towards the shop front window and peeked inside. There was no movement. 

Deciding there was no danger, he made his way to the door. Unsurprisingly, they opened silently, the Doctor stepping into the familiar surroundings. Like always, bolts of vibrant fabric were draped artfully around the walls, dress models clothed in the latest fashions on prominent display. 

Stepping further into the familiar surroundings, Julian spotted the figure seated at the small counter. 

Garak was deadly still, looking down at something on the table in front of him. 

“Good evening Doctor.” The tailor said without looking up. Julian was unsurprised. Even if he hadn’t known Garak’s history (or at least had a good working theory based on the multitude of lies the tailor had told him over the years) he could guess that there was a lot more to the famous ‘Plain and Simple Garak’

Walking to the small couch kept for customers, Julian sat down and relaxed. 

He had heard many times over the years how unnerving people found the store and its occupant but Julian had never felt anything but comfortable while around the Cardassian. Even when Garak had been less than pleasant company, Julian had never felt threatened.

He had been on the station long enough to hear the nasty things said behind the man’s back, the station’s Bajoran population particularly hostile towards its one Cardassian resident. But Garak, rather than bow under the pressure of his exile, had embraced the rumours, turning them to his advantage.

Sometimes, Julian couldn’t help but marvel at how strong Garak truly was and even more so now that he had seen the man vulnerable so many times. 

Tain had underestimated Garak badly, thinking that this exile would break him.

Despite himself, Julian had disliked Tain from the very first time he had met the man when he was fighting for Garak’s life, even before he had understood exactly how the man had been involved in Garak’s current existence on Deep Space Nine.

Tain’s actions in the Internment camp, turning the life support into a distress signal had gone a little way to warming Julian towards him but any good wishes had been undone when he realised Tain had meant for Garak to come to the Internment Camp and likely be captured and possibly killed. 

Any remaining shreds of good will had vanished when he had sat, silently listening to Tain’s last conversation with Garak, the man’s refusal to acknowledge his son until the very end. 

Julian had never had the best relationship with his own parents, their one great family secret a sore point between them all, but he could never imagine his own father being so cruel, regardless of how insensitive the older Bashir could be at times. 

At his desk, Garak put his pen down by his padd and pushed it aside, looking up at an unknown point, mind elsewhere. 

“What are you working on?” Julian asked softly. 

It was a stark change from their normal night time meetings. The previous meetings, aside from a greeting and a farewell, had not featured conversation. But tonight, Julian was feeling more trapped in his own mind than normal. 

Maybe it was the distasteful thought of Tain’s last moments or the alien feeling of being outside of his own life but Julian suddenly felt the need to hear a friendly voice. One which wasn’t going to demand he be the old Julian, wasn’t going to rub it in his face that he killed someone. Someone who could understand where he was emotionally. 

Both he and Garak had suffered in that camp and unlike the Klingons, neither of them were from cultures who yearned for the challenges those sorts of situations brought. Klingon’s tended to bury the matter of mental health deep inside them and rarely let their feelings show. Evolution had given them a remarkable resilience to mental trauma.

Although Julian had a better than average understanding of Cardassian Culture and knew enough from off handed comments from Garak and the books he had read to know that Cardassians were brought up to basically worship the State, he was not aware of any particular cultural precedents which could prevent mental issues. 

Hell, he didn’t need to be a Doctor to guess that there was something mentally rotten with Gul Dukat. The man was almost certainly insane and power hungry. What kind of person sold his entire race to almost guaranteed subservience and death just to get back at his own enemies?

Dukat’s betrayal was still raw on the station, the Bajoran population the only ones unsurprised at the Cardassians actions.

“Just some sketches. Nothing of importance.” Garak replied, again breaking Julian from his thoughts.

The Cardassian didn’t move from his seat, his eyes still staring at an unseen point. No doubt as much in his own head as Julian was. 

Reaching into his pocket, Julian decided to redirect the conversation and maybe both his and Garak’s thoughts. 

“I got an interesting gift today.” Julian said, trying to keep his voice light as he held up the data stick. 

Finally Garak looked over at him. 

“Oh?” The Cardassian asked, a hint of the usual warm, teasing tone in his voice once again. 

“General Martok has finished the first draft of his epic poem about the escape from Internment Camp 371. I thought we could read and discuss it together.” Julian couldn’t hide his slightly upbeat tone. He was so used to sparring with Garak over literature but neither of them had ventured out of their respective species collections so far. Julian had no idea what Garak would think of Klingon poetry and with both of them knowing the writer and potentially being prominent characters in the story, it looked to be an interesting experience 

Garak seemed to have a similar thought. 

“Well, I hope I come off better than in real life.” The other man said condescendingly. 

“You saved all our lives.” Julian pointed out. “It's hard to see how he could make you appear better than what really happened.”

“Ah, but Doctor. I am not looking for the truth of what happened. I am looking for a exemplary example of Klingon poetry.” 

Garak rose from his seat, picking up his padd. Quickly, he strode to the couch and sat down next to the Doctor. 

Julian looked down at the data stick. 

“It’s only the first draft.” He warned, holding it up. Garak took it from his loose grip and slipped it into the padd. 

“Regardless, I am sure it will be enlightening.” Garak replied, opening the poem. 

Julian couldn’t fight down the smile as he leant against Garak’s shoulder and began to read the epic poem.

\------

It was now 2 days until Sisko’s order would be up. 

Julian had barely slept that night. General Martok’s poem was surprisingly gripping and even Garak had to admit, it was shaping up to be an impressive piece of work. 

The next morning the doctor found himself seated once again at his desk in the sickbay, very aware of his lack of sleep as he looked over the data from the blood tests. Several shuttles were due to arrive and Constable Odo was now ordering no one be allowed to disembark until their blood had been tested. 

On arriving for his shift, Julian had received a heads up from one of the off duty nurses that Martok and the Klingon detachment assigned to the station would be running some training scenarios in the holodeck so he was braced for any number of injuries to come his way. Klingon training was intense even in the easiest settings.

He had heard that Commander Worf was also to take part and knowing Worf the way he did, blood was almost certainly going to be spilt. Julian had made sure his staff were prepared for the mess that would ensue. 

Julian was already exhausted just from the thought of it. He honestly didn’t know how he would make it through his shift. 

Once again, it looked like his staff had taken him off the double shift. For some reason, Julian couldn’t find it in himself to care. Normally, he was on top of his staff when they disobeyed his orders. In the field of medicine, to be lax was to put others in harm’s way. 

And yet, Julian could not build up the energy. It didn’t seem like he had the energy to do a lot of things these days. 

Nothing seemed to be able to hold his attention today and even his uniform seemed more irritating than normal. 

The moment he arrived at this desk, Julian had picked up his padd to do some work. The monthly report was due soon and the Changeling had not kept any records of what had been done or what stores needed to be restocked in his absence so the doctor and his staff had been struggling to account for everything. 

Julian had planned to devote his day to sorting out the mess in order to provide a comprehensive report to Captain Sisko and Starfleet. But every time he tried to read his report, he found himself staring into space instead. 

His mind felt slow today, everything fuzzy like he was trying to navigate his life through a thick fog. Even the Raktajino he had grabbed from the replicator at the start of his shift seemed to do little, the drink discarded, half finished on his desk.

Maybe he needed a walk to organise his thoughts. Do a few house calls.

Julian always tried to put in a full work shift, even when it was quiet. Being CMO was a 24 hour job and he never knew when he was going to be called to a medical emergency but he always tried to put in a full shift like the rest of his team, even taking on the occasional night shifts. It was good for morale if the CMO was seen to be working the same as others. 

Julian had gotten used to the erratic nature of his job, learning how to manage his time with his regular shifts in sickbay, sometimes with the additional emergency calls. 

Nothing was certain, even more so these days, but Julian was never going to compromise his patients' welfare if he could help it. They expected him to be in sickbay at certain times, regardless of whenever else he was called into work.

However, there were exceptions. Such as house calls. 

House calls were only for those people unable to make it to sickbay by themselves or when their condition was too vulnerable to allow them outside their quarters. At the moment, there were very few such patients on the Station. Most of the more vulnerable people on the station had moved to Bajore prior to the Dominion’s arrival in the Alpha Quadrant. Still, there were a few people he could check in on. 

More often than not, Julian didn’t make house calls, leaving it to his staff to do so unless there was a serious medical issue involved. However, he was sure some of the regulars would be happy to see him out and about.

That decided it. 

Standing up, Julian placed his padd down on his desk next to the forgotten mug. 

Stretching, the Doctor tried to stimulate his muscles, tense from holding himself up all night, seated on Garak’s couch while he read over the tailors shoulder and again while he held himself still, trying to will himself to do his work. 

Sighing, Julian stepped out into the larger area of the sickbay. A few of his staff were milling around but the bio-beds were empty, which was good. 

Nodding to his head nurse, Julian walked to one of the cupboards and started searching for a basic medical kit while he mentally catalogued and plotted his route across the station to the required quarters.

As he turned to inform his staff of his plan, the door to the sickbay slid open. 

Julian only just managed to keep his grip on his med kit as Captain Sisko walked into the Sickbay. Quickly placing it safely down, he turned to meet his commanding officer.

“Captain. What can I do for you today?” Julian asked, slipping behind his mask of caring doctor. 

Sisko held up his hands in a placating manner. 

“I had some time before my shift and thought I should probably schedule a checkup. If that is ok with you Doctor.” He gave Julian a reassuring smile. 

Julian knew that it would not do him any good to refuse his Commanding officer. Sisko was an amazing Starfleet officer and mentor but he was remarkably transparent to someone as observant as Julian Bashir. Not that many people knew just how observant Julian truly was. 

Sisko would have called ahead and knew that Julian was not busy. No doubt he also knew about Julian’s night time walks on the promenade and his refusal to socialise with the other senior officers. Pretending that he was unavailable or busy would be a give away.

Knowing he was caught, Julian tried to give him a reassuring smile. 

“Of course, Captain. Please come in.”

Turning his back, he indicated for the Captain to sit on a bio-bed as he reached for the tricorder. This had the added advantage of giving him a few precious seconds to prepare himself before he turned back to face the Captain now seated on the bed. 

“Have you been experiencing any pains or sudden dizziness.?” He asked, opening the tricorder and beginning his scans. 

He was very aware that the Changeling had performed brain surgery on the Captain while he had been prisoner of the Dominion, effectively blocking Sisko from the visions of the Prophets. 

For how long, or even for what purpose, Julian could not say. Although his main concern was his commanding officers welfare, the fact that the Changelings had gone out of their way to block these visions suggested some ulterior motive on the Dominion’s part. 

Despite not being the one who performed it, Julian knew that a Neuropolaric Induction was one of the most difficult and dangerous surgeries he had been trained to perform. The risks would have been incredibly high, especially as Julian had learnt, when Captain had delayed the surgery until it was almost too late, subjecting himself to more and more possible brain damage in the process. The fact that the Changeling had done it successfully instead of letting the Captain suffer and most likely die suggested some plan on the Changeling’s behalf. As Garak would have said, to not take advantage of the Captain’s declining health was the height of folly. 

“No. No issues.” Sisko replied as Julian collected the last of the scans. 

“No nausea or issues sleeping? Changes in appetite?” Julian added as he turned to feed the results into the computer. So far, everything was looking normal. The Captain didn’t display any residual trauma from the surgery and his brain scans were excellent. 

“No. None.” Sisko replied. 

Julian nodded to himself, looking at the computer terminal. 

The Captain had already received a check up shortly after Julian had returned from the Internment Camp, along with Major Kira and anyone else who may have received treatment from the Changeling. 

From what Julian could see now, there were no changes to the Captain since that checkup, which was more than he could hope for. 

“Well, that’s good.” Julian muttered, half to himself as he typed up a quick note. It always paid to keep detailed records on what he had done, even during a quick check up. 

He let the silence fall. No doubt, the Captain had more to say. It was just a matter of time before he said it. Instead, Julian busied himself with the computer again. 

“And how about you, Doctor?” Sisko finally asked. “How has your sleep been?”

Julian couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. Sisko was watching him, brown eyes full of sympathy. Waiting for an answer he already knew. 

Quickly, Julian looked around. His team were all at different stations, occupied with their own tasks but Julian was very aware of them all listening, wanting to hear what he was going to say. 

Julian straightened up, deactivating the terminal. 

“Please. Step into my office.” He said. 

Looking away from Sisko, Julian strode towards the office. His newly reclaimed safe space. 

Not offended by the brush off, Sisko followed him out of the sickbay, stopping as soon as the door closed behind him. 

Quickly, Julian strode to stand behind his desk, the physical barrier a comfort. 

He turned, looking over at a few of the charts on the walls, trying to avoid the Captain’s knowing gaze. 

“Well?” Sisko asked after a moment. 

“I get more sleep than I did previously.” Julian replied. 

“You mean more than you got while a prisoner of the Jem’Hadar.” Sisko summarized. 

Julian tried not to flinch at the comment but he felt himself stiffen, unwanted memories flashing before his eyes. It was true that he had not slept much while imprisoned. The risk had been too great, especially in Tain’s last days as Julian fought to keep him alive. Any moment, the Jem’Hadar could come and drag one of them away to the fighting ring or execution. 

Blinking, Julian tried to force the memories away. 

“And the rest of the night, you walk along the promenade.” Sisko added. Julian couldn’t help but shoot him a look. He had tried to keep his night time walks on the down low but the station was a rumour mill. 

Sitting down in the chair opposite Julian, Sisko relaxed back. 

“People talk, Doctor. And they worry. Jadzia, Miles, the Major. Even Quark and Mister Garak have expressed to me, their concern for you.”

“Is this a reprimand, Sir?” Julain couldn’t help but ask. He had his back up now, not liking the evidence that his friends had gone to Sisko rather than trust him to manage. 

Sisko was a good Captain and in many ways, Julian considered him a mentor but the idea that others had been talking about him sat badly. Julian had always tried to be self-sufficient. He made a point of taking care of himself. For others to suggest he wasn’t doing a good job, even the Captain, was insulting. 

Sisko held his hands up in a gesture of peace. The Captain could clearly see Julian’s agitation. 

“It’s an acknowledgement that your friends are worried about you. And I am too.” He said. Standing up, the Captain stepped closer until all that separated him from the Doctor was the desk.

“Doctor….” He hesitated for a moment. “Julian. I read Constable Odo’s report. What you went through in that camp was horrific. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it is, getting back to normal station life after everything that happened. But you know as well as I do that it is not over. At the moment the Dominion is quiet but they will attack soon. I need all my staff ready to fight. And if I can’t trust them to be ready, I have to take any action I see fit. Up to and including sending them back to Earth.”

Julian turned. 

“Are you threatening to send me away?” He asked, failing to keep the anger from his face at the suggestion. 

“I am saying, I will do what I think is needed for your own good. Doctor, I trust you with my life. With the life of my son and the rest of this station. But at this moment, I don’t trust you with your own life.” Sisko said pointedly. 

“I’m hardly likely to harm myself, if that's what you are suggesting.” Julian shot back. He could tell his voice was raised yet he couldn’t bring it back to a normal level. It was like all the pent up anger from his situation was ready to spill over. 

Outside, he could almost hear his staff, all silent, all listening. All waiting for the explosion. 

“Maybe not deliberately.” Sisko pointed out, still speaking in a calm voice in spite of the anger from his CMO. “But you know as well as I do that not sleeping, that not talking, that ignoring your body and mind’s needs, does just as much damage.”

Julian couldn’t help the snort of indignation. It was ironic that the Captain, who had not always been the best patient, was lecturing him. Threatening to turn him out. 

“So that’s it then?” He questioned. “Pack up your bags. You're done.” 

“No.” Sisko replied. Still calm. Still clear. “I need you here. Your friends need you here. And we need you well.” 

Julian felt himself subside slightly. He wasn’t getting kicked off DS9. That at least, was something. 

The Captain seemed to realise that Julian was slipping into his own thoughts. Sitting back down, Sisko quickly changed the topic. 

“I heard from General Martok that he gifted you a Klingon weapon.” He said, conversationally. 

Thankful for something else to think about, Julian welcomed the subject change, even if it was to another unwelcome topic. 

“He did. I have been trying to think of a way to return it without causing offence.” He replied, finally getting his temper under control.

“I feel that may be an impossible task.” Sisko replied. “From my understanding, it was not an ordinary D’k tahg. And it is not a custom to return such an important gift.”

Julian shrugged. He was not an expert on weapons, let alone Klingon ones. 

“I wouldn’t know.” Now that the adrenaline of the confrontation was wearing off, Julian felt exhausted. 

“May I see it?” The Captain asked. 

Sighing, Julian nodded and made his way to his locker. Maybe he could encourage the Captain to take the weapon off his hands. Opening the locker, he pulled out the weapon, still wrapped in the same cloth it had been gifted in. He walked back over to the desk and handed it to Sisko who unwrapped it and raised the D’k tahg, studying it. 

Returning to his desk, Julian allowed himself to sink down into his chair. 

“This is exceptional work.” Sisko commented, still studying the blade. “The General was very generous, giving it to you.” 

“I can’t accept it.” Julian muttered. 

“Doctor. This is not an ordinary blade. This is a gift from the House of Martok. To be given it by the head of the house, as a human, is the ultimate recognition. To refuse it is the greatest dishonor to both the General and you.”

Reaching over, Sisko placed the D’k tahg down carefully on the desk. From there, Julian could see the engraving on the blade. He hadn’t noticed it before, too caught up in the shock of receiving it. His Klingon was rusty but he could make out Martok’s crest there. 

“What should I do?” Julian finally asked. He didn’t know if he was asking about the blade and Martok or his life. 

“You should display it.” Sisko replied without hesitation. “The General is very well respected and to have his esteem should be displayed with pride. Certainly some of the Station’s new residents would be impressed by it.”

Julian looked over at the Captain, meeting Sisko’s eyes. 

The Captain held his gaze for a few moments before nodding. He rose to his feet, tugging the hem of his jacket down as he moved. 

“Counsellor Telnorri has a free afternoon. He has been told to expect your arrival.” Sisko stated as he stepped towards the door. 

“Is that an order Captain?” Julian asked, a little bit of the previous defiance rearing its head. 

Sisko didn’t take the bait. 

“It’s a suggestion. From a friend who is worried about you.” He replied. “And maybe a nap might be in order beforehand.”

Then Sisko was out the door, gone from view. 

Sighing, Julian sat back in his chair. 

After a moment, he looked over at the D’k tahg. He thought about it for a moment. It wouldn’t be too difficult to replicate a nice stand for it. And Sisko was right in a way. It would go a way to stopping any issues with the newer Klingons on the station, displaying their General’s mark on his desk. None of them would defy the Doctor’s orders unless they wanted the General coming down on them. 

Standing up, Julian carefully wrapped up the weapon and placed it safely back in his locker. He looked over at his terminal. It was still morning. He was sure his staff wouldn’t mind if he slipped away for a few hours. Not to nap, of course, but to go to his Quarters and maybe rest for a little while. And if he happened to go visit his esteemed colleague Telnorri later, well, no one would blink at the CMO and the Councillor talking. 

Reaching over to close the locker, Julian spotted his spare uniform still handing up and ready, the teal shoulders bright against the grey of the locker. He reached over and brushed the soft fabric gently. Maybe it was time to let go of a few things. 

Closing the locker, Julian turned and made his way out of his office, giving a quick explanation to his head nurse before heading back to his quarters. If he slept for a few hours, well that was no one's business but his own. 

\--------

It had been 6 weeks now, since his liberation from the Internment Camp. Julian had to admit, he was finally starting to feel himself again. 

He was seeing Telnorri every second day, his colleague surprisingly insightful and a good conversationalist, helping Julian with the long process of integrating back into station life. 

Julian’s sleep was better too, although still not as much as he would like and plagued by the occasional nightmare. But Julian found he was no longer relying on the exhaustion of a double shift to help him, or the night time prowl of the promenade. 

Julian’s staff too had helped in their own way, preventing him from taking on too heavy a workload and rewarding his faith in them by doing their jobs exceptionally well. The reports had been done with little fuss and all the issues with the Changeling had been dealt with with no fanfare, which Julian was thankful for. 

Julian had also returned to his after work meetups with Miles to play darts or go to the holodeck and even gone to the senior staff meetings again. Jadzia had smiled brightly the first time he had turned up after seeing the counsellor. Sisko had given him a nod of approval and Julian knew that his job was no longer under threat. Odo and Kira had also been more welcoming than Julian had expected, clearly glad to see the station's Chief Medical Officer returning to normal. 

Miles too had made good on his threat and Julian had found himself babysitting Molly and Kirayoshi for a night while Miles and Keiko had a free evening. It had been a nice evening, sitting on the floor of the O’Brien’s quarters and playing games with Molly, cuddling Yoshi, and Julian found himself having a surprisingly enjoyable time. 

Julian had noted that the station's Klingon population too had shifted their attitude towards him. Julian could put it to both Martok’s vocal praise of him and the D’k tahg now displayed on his desk. Martok had even invited him to a drink with the General and several of the higher ranking Klingons, introducing him to his companions as the brave doctor who had risked his life against the Jem’Hadar. 

Julian had been slightly embarrassed by the Klingons loud and vocal praise but Jadzia had been at his side, having joined in soon after Julian and had guided him through it all. Worf too had been there and nodded along with Martok, confirming his account of Julian’s work.

His uniforms were no longer irritating him, thanks to Garak. One night, shortly after he had commenced his sessions with Telnorri, Julian had found himself once again in the Cardassian’s shop, this time in his uniform. A few comments about the new design had led to Julian confessing his dislike of the feel and fabric of the uniform. The next day, Julian had been heading to work only to be waylaid by the tailor who presented him with another uniform, identical to the one he was wearing. 

However, the differences had been noticeable once Julian had slipped it on, not just better fitting but of a much better quality fabric and the feel so much better against his skin.  
Julian had, after the end of his shift, the first where the uniform hadn’t bothered him, made his way to Garak’s shop with an offer to pay for the uniform. Garak had just smirked and waved him off with an invite to lunch the next day and a spare uniform for him. Julian had to fight to hide the wave of affection for the Cardassian from showing on his face and resolved to do something nice for the tailor in the near future. 

Now it was the end of another work day. Julian and Miles had once again commandeered the dart board for a friendly game. They had started off the game, talking about everything they could think of, the familiar banter which was second nature to them both. 

Julian had to admit, it was becoming a lot easier to feel his old self again. Admittedly, he was more guarded now, aware that his behaviour change after escaping the Internment Camp had been noticed by his colleagues. He didn’t need them noticing anything else about him. 

But the chore of slipping on his mask of plain old Julian Bashir was once again getting easier. It took less effort now, to be the man they all expected him to be. 

Throughout the game, Miles had been making some jokes about Julian starting a family of his own, no doubt inspired by his recent babysitting duties. Julian had laughed at the appropriate places and derailed his friends' attempts at encouraging him to start a relationship. No one should be interested in sharing his genes. 

He had been drawing out the games as long as he could that afternoon. He had plans to meet Garak for dinner to discuss a new Enigma Tale they had both been reading and would rather play with Miles until it was time to meet Garak, instead of returning to his quarters to ponder on that day's meeting with Telnorri. 

He had just been about to throw his last dart when a voice broke his concentration. 

“Doctor Bashir, I presume?” 

Julian had turned to look at the newcomer as the man slowly stepped into the light. He watched with interest as the newcomer, Zimmerman introduced himself, unaware of just how much his life was about to change. 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks. That ending is the opening scene of the episode 'Doctor Bashir, I Presume' which is an absolute gut punch of an episode for our poor Doctor. 
> 
> I know, timeline wise this is probably wrong. They rarely state the time frame between episodes with unrelated (kinda) story lines but I think the general feel is maybe a week or two. However, I do not believe at all, that it would only take a week or to from escaping the Jem'Hadar to being in the right frame of mind to survive the crap coming for him so I extended the timeline to 6 weeks (and him not being ok still) I hope it works. The events of those three episodes, happening in such quick succession, didn't make sense to me unless there was a longer time frame off screen.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the half way point (hopefully) I have a fair bit more written and will hopefully finish this in two chapters) Thanks for reading.
> 
> I also want to say, to those who may be struggling, either with the current situation, or other factors, it is ok to reach out. My message box is always open.


End file.
